Got Weed?

Here's how it all started.

It was around the time of the Kentucky Derby and all the talk was about mint juleps.

Who was drinking them, how to make them and the history surrounding them.

I decided I needed to find out what all this julep fuss was about, so I was off to the local "has it all" store and bought a small package of mint seeds.

I would grow mint for juleps on the deck.

Everyone supported my endeavour.

GK was excited because there's whiskey in juleps and Mike was excited because he is excited about anything I do.

I planted the seeds, I watered the seeds, I loved the seeds and it wasn't long until they started to sprout. Every day they would get a little taller lifting their tiny little heads towards the sun.

I would shelter them from the rain and fertilize every Tuesday.

I never stopped to think what an endearing attachment I was forming with this one little plant, but I needed that mint, just as much as that little Jr mint needed me.

When we lost GK at the end of June, I looked at my mint and felt sad because GK would never have a chance to savour the juleps that we looked forward to sharing together on the deck.

I knew it was up to Mike and I to see this Kentucky tradition through.

For Grampy.

About a week ago, Mike was commenting on how well the mint was doing.

How tall it was, how green an healthy the leaves were, but he also mentioned how curious it was that it didn't smell like mint.

I told him he was dumb and possibly congested.

How could it not smell like mint.

Duh.

That night as we sat on the deck, Maddy came out to sit a spell and commented on my lovely mint.

I told her how I had raised it from a tiny seed, watered it and fed it, and if she liked, she could take a small leaf and taste the wonderful minty freshness.

Her eyes lit up and her smile warmed my heart as she walked to my cherished plant.

She took one of the smaller leaves close to the bottom and gently laid it on her tongue.

Her eyes started to cross as she coughed up the noxious stem and looked at me and squealed "eeeeewwwwwww Marilyn, that tastes like weed"

What did she know I thought to myself.

She's just a child.

It's not a weed, it's MINT.

Let me just tell you, the kid was right.

It is a weed.

But it is MY weed that I have nurtured since the conception of it's weediness and I am committed to seeing it through to the very end. I will continue to pinch off the dead leaves and fertilize on Tuesdays.

Protect it from the rain and shelter it from the wind.

That's just how I roll.

In another week or so the weed will be ready for juleps, at which time you can expect to see me on the deck in a fancy hat and housecoat toasting my Grampy.

Cheers!